Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

to my brother off dying in the war

there is no poetry
in what might have been

the affliction you suffer
is the retribution
of your outraged nature

your rebellion
is plotting to burn
it’s well polished shelf

please know
there is no pill to remedy
a life slipping by unlived

no syringe of dreams
potent enough
to run warming peace up your veins

you are the merciful god
who will end the torture
within the pit

sublime discontent
transmuted into chapters of ink
will be your salvation

and the will to build a door

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